


full circle

by maddielle



Series: that big picture 'verse [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Breakfast, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, Kissing, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Nutella, One Shot, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:07:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22438441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maddielle/pseuds/maddielle
Summary: Eyes closed, Stiles smiled and hummed, amending his to-do list: eat bacon, watch TV, and convince Derek to spend the majority of the day in bed.He figured it wouldn’t take much energy to cross everything off that list.Stiles and Derek spend a much-needed lazy Saturday together.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: that big picture 'verse [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1614649
Comments: 2
Kudos: 312





	full circle

**Author's Note:**

> this came from a craving for toasted raisin bread
> 
> set four ish years after _need it_ ; stiles graduated, they've been living together about a year

Stiles didn’t move for a long moment when he finally woke. He felt warm and rested down to his bones, a feeling only allowed by mornings blessedly devoid of the chirping of his alarm. He was aware of a lingering chill in the air from a cool November night, but his body was comfortably cocooned in a fluffy duvet. He absolutely did not want to open his eyes at least until noon, maybe for the entire day, maybe for the whole weekend.

He and Danny had been working their literal asses off for a week, burning the midnight oil to complete a database development project for the local office of the National Park Service. The job had come up unexpectedly, but they hadn’t wanted to turn down an opportunity to get a foot in the door with a government agency. Hence, Stiles’ week had been a blur of computer screens, diagrams scrawled on the whiteboard in his and Danny’s office space, and breaks for coffee runs to the 24-hour gas station near the hospital; they had a cup size beyond extra-large. He’d have to thank Melissa for the tip, discretely, of course, since Stiles didn’t want his dad finding more excuses to work overtime.

Long story short, it had been a long week. And now, it was Saturday. The project had been delivered the night before, and Stiles didn’t have to do anything for two full days except finally rip into the pack of maple bacon he knew was in the freezer and seriously catch up on some of the vintage episodes of The Office he’d been recording.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

The timer on the oven downstairs continued to chime, followed by heavy footsteps down the front hall and a growly curse at the appliance to shut the hell up.

Eyes closed, Stiles smiled and hummed, amending his to-do list: eat bacon, watch TV, and convince Derek to spend the majority of the day in bed. He figured it wouldn’t take much energy to cross everything off that list.

A bit later, he was still lost in thought about how to accomplish his goals while moving the fewest body parts possible when there was a light knock on the bedroom door.

“Stiles?”

Stiles harrumphed and burrowed deeper into covers.

“I know you’re awake.”

“New phone, who dis,” Stiles mumbled. “Go ‘way, I have logistics to figure out.”

Socked feet padded across the bedroom carpet, and the bed dipped behind him as Derek crawled over. “Oh, yeah? What kind of logistics?”

Stiles hugged his pillow tighter. “I need bacon, TV, and sex. All without moving.”

“Those are quite the demands,” Derek murmured, dropping small kisses from behind Stiles’ ear down to his shoulder. Stiles fought back a grin.

“I will not be bargained with.”

With a gentle snort, Derek grasped Stiles’ arm and rolled him onto his back. Stiles finally gave up against the inevitability of the day and opened his eyes to find Derek above him, looking horribly beautiful and unkept with unruly hair and several-days-past-five-o’clock-shadow scruff.

“Morning,” Stiles said, innocently.

“Good morning,” Derek replied, amused. “If you’re amenable to accepting help, I think I can assist you with at least one of those things.”

“Ooh, yes, please.” Being forced to wakefulness could always be forgiven if morning sex was in the cards.

Stiles’ hands were halfway to grabbing Derek’s behind and yanking him closer when he stilled, sniffing the air. There was a light scent wafting in from the hall, something salty and a little bit sweet and…

Stiles tilted his head back to stare his boyfriend in the eye.

“Did you cook the maple bacon?”

“Mhm.”

“All of it?”

“Yep,” Derek said, lowering his mouth to Stiles’ neck again.

“Is there raisin bread? And Nutella? Coffee?”

Derek huffed against his skin, pausing between kisses. “Yes, Stiles.”

“Oh my god.” Stiles pushed Derek off of him with two hands and pressed a hard kiss to his lips. “I love you. So much. Get off me, I’m starving.”

Shaking his head, Derek kissed him once more before launching himself off the bed and back out the door. “Put some pants on first,” he called from halfway down the stairs. “The guy is coming to look at the furnace today.”

For a second, Stiles could only scrub his palms over his eyes and grin at nothing, sort of elated that this was his life. He then slid out of their bed, threw on a pair of his own sweats and a crewneck of Derek’s, and thumped downstairs to greet the day properly with caffeine and unhealthy breakfast goods. The kitchen greeted him with a wash of warm, delicious-smelling air and bright sunlight streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out on the back deck of the house and beyond to the woods.

When Stiles had first entered the new house a few years before, he’d been taken aback by how much thought and detail had gone into its reconstruction. At the time, Derek had mumbled something about energy efficient designs and looked away in embarrassment, but Stiles knew how profound it could be to finally find a home again where there used to be a house. He’d been reminded of the time he had walked into his dad’s house the first Christmas since graduating high school – Melissa had been there, physically at the oven stirring a Bolognese sauce, but also figuratively in the easier smile on his dad’s face and the cheerful plants lining the kitchen window sill.

Though he’d never bring it up, Stiles knew that Derek had built the new kitchen specifically where the most sunlight would find its way inside. He more and more easily recognized the quiet Derek-ness in everything. For example, Derek swore that the guest house built adjacent to the main residence was ‘just for visitors’, but Stiles would bet his left leg that someone whose name rhymed with Nora would end up living there within the next year or two.

“Breakfast is served,” Derek said, producing two plates stacked with toasted raisin bread and bacon strips cooked to golden perfection. He set them down on the kitchen island and then turned to retrieve Stiles’ Nutella from the cupboard above the sink. “Along with your chocolate goop.”

“Hey, be nice to my chocolate goop,” Stiles protested. “It’s been responsible for some very awesome sexy times.”

Derek rolled his eyes as he opened the jar and set it beside one of the plates. “I made espresso,” he added. “Cappuccino?”

Stiles’ brain was still stuck on several delightful memories of the aforementioned Nutella-induced sexy times. “Huh?”

“Cappuccino,” Derek repeated, straight-faced, holding up two of what Stiles fondly referred to as the fancy mugs, not for chugging energy drinks out of. “Want some?”

“Uh. W- Yes. Absolutely! Caffeinate me.”

As Derek puttered around the kitchen, pouring coffee and grabbing milk from the fridge and doing whatever else was needed to make a cappuccino, Stiles watched him, eyes narrowed.

“What is all this?” he eventually asked. “You’re being suspiciously domestic. What did you do?”

Derek sighed as he poured milk into a jug to be frothed. “Stiles-”

“Is this because of the laundry situation? I told you, man, nine more blow jobs and you’ll have paid me back. I didn’t even really care about that shirt, it was just something dumb Scott got me when I was thirteen, and I am perfectly capable of making bacon for myself, mostly, sometimes, except for that one time I burned everything, but that was _one_ time, okay, and you-”

“Stiles.”

Derek was standing in front of him, hands on Stiles’ upper arms.

“I didn’t do anything,” Derek said, tone stern but eyes fond. “This is not a guilt breakfast. And I do not regret ruining your old shirt from high school. It had bloodstains on it, Stiles.”

Stiles gaped. “You said it was an accident-!”

“I made you breakfast,” Derek continued without pause, “because you had a hard week, and I want you to relax.” He raised his eyebrows and squeezed Stiles’ arms. “Good enough?”

Stiles was quiet for a moment before knocking Derek’s hands out of the way so he could wind his fingers in soft, dark hair.

“Good enough?” he muttered. “You’re freaking ridiculous, you absolute sap of a werewolf, I can’t believe you. _Good enough_ , he says. What the actual hell, _good enough-_ ”

He didn’t get much further because Derek had scooped him up with an arm around Stiles’ waist and was kissing him, warm and familiar. Even with maple bacon waiting a few feet away, Stiles couldn’t resist the opportunity to press up against the length of Derek’s body, tasting him properly for the first time in what felt like weeks. He savored the wet press of their mouths, the brush of stubble on his cheeks, the clean scent of the laundry detergent brand Derek refused to part with.

When they pulled back, Stiles leaned their foreheads together and swallowed. “I need to do some more of that. With you. Like, today.”

“Me too,” Derek said quietly.

“But. Breakfast first.”

Derek smiled, the kind of smile Stiles knew only happened when they were occupying the same tiny volume of space together like this, and kissed Stiles’ cheek. “Yeah. Breakfast first.”

Later that morning, or possibly that afternoon, Stiles had his feet up on the coffee table in the front room and had already worked his way through five episodes. The shower upstairs had just been turned off, and he was queuing up a Christmas episode when Derek dropped down next to him on the couch. He had damp hair, spiked haphazardly, and a stack of mail in his lap.

“We should do this with the pack,” Stiles said, gesturing to the large, wall-mounted screen. Derek hadn’t originally wanted to buy a TV for the house at all, but he’d quickly realized that video games could be a safe and sane way to expel excess werewolf energy when the rest of the pack visited. Naturally, it was top of the line, so Stiles made use of it for binging shows when he had the time.

“Do what?” Derek asked, frowning at an envelope.

“Secret Santa. You know, buy each other specific and hilarious gifts. I think this might be the intrigue and drama we’ve been missing out on at our holiday parties.”

“I think we have enough drama as it is with Erica taping mistletoe to every doorway in the house. We got banned from sitting next to each other at pack meetings for two months, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Stiles snickered. “Come on, that’s hardly my fault. I barely need any encouragement to feel you up every five minutes as it is; she just gave me an excuse.” He rolled his head to the side. “Anything good?”

“Junk, junk, bank statement-“

“You’re such an old man, just get them online.”

“-junk, water bill, pizza coupon-“

“Gimme.”

“-and a postcard.” Derek turned it over. “From Cora.”

“Oh, sweet,” Stiles said, sitting up, episode momentarily forgotten. “Where is she now?”

“Looks like Argentina,” Derek said, skimming over the note scrawled on the back. “ ‘Hi guys, happy early Thanksgiving. I’m settled with a pack in the city for a while, working on some writing. Got some money saved, thinking of a trip north in the New Year. Love to you both, Cora’.”

It was dated about three weeks prior.

“That’s sweet of her,” Stiles commented.

Derek nodded. “I’ll give her a call later, try to get some details on a visit. Maybe for February. You cool with that?”

“Yeah, totally. You get extra grumpy in the winter months, so I could use the help.”

“Ass,” Derek muttered, elbowing him lightly.

“It’s true.”

“Whatever.”

Stiles smiled and took the postcard, looking over the photo of some historical building on the front. “I’ve missed her. Wish she could come earlier for Christmas or something.”

“We’re already going to be booked up with Lydia and Jackson in the guest house and Scott in the basement room.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m still mad at you for offering.” Stiles grimaced, taking the mail and tossing it onto the coffee table. “Two werewolves hanging around? I’m not gonna get laid for like two weeks straight.”

“We might get away with it in the shower,” Derek offered as Stiles lifted a leg and came to rest on top of him, straddling his thighs. The furnace repair guy had come and gone already, so Stiles no longer had to worry about keeping things PG in his own home.

“People will get very suspicious if we run off to the bathroom every time we get horny,” he pointed out.

With a small huff, Derek rested his head on the back of the couch and slipped his thumbs underneath the sweater Stiles wore to trace his hipbones. “Well, in that case, the only thing I can suggest is that we get it all out of our systems before everyone arrives.”

“That’s a solid idea,” Stiles said, shifting his hips forwards. “But that only gives us four weeks to wear ourselves out.”

Derek grinned, wolfish. His hands slid around to grab Stiles’ ass.

“Better get a head start, then.”

Stiles groaned quietly.

“Fuck, _yes._ ”

About an hour later, Stiles flopped back on their bed with a whine, feet and hands tingling in the aftermath of a wonderfully intense, drawn-out orgasm. Derek still had his thighs held open in a possessive grip as he started on cleaning the mess Stiles had made on his own stomach with gentle licks.

“Good?” Derek asked, shifting from licking to sucking slow kisses onto Stiles’ hips.

“God, yeah. Always.”

“Good.”

After a few more moments, Derek lazily lifted himself up to rest on his side, face hovering over Stiles’. Stiles immediately reached for him and slid their mouths together, kissing Derek as lovingly and deeply as he could manage with his brain still fuzzy around the edges.

“How are you feeling?” Derek asked when they broke apart, minutes later.

“Right now? Blissfully fucked out and in need of a shower. Overall?” Stiles shrugged. “Better. Rested.” He caught Derek’s gaze and held it. “Today was exactly what I needed. Thank you.”

Derek dipped his head to kiss and nip lightly at Stiles’ jaw, and said, simply, “I love you.”

Stiles closed his eyes and sighed, content to end his day exactly where he’d started it: comfy and warm and in the bed he shared every night with his favourite person.

Bacon, check. TV, check. Sex, _check._

Best. Saturday. Ever.

**Author's Note:**

> only sOft vibes here


End file.
